PolyArchive

449 (I died for Beauty—but was scarce) Emily Dickinson I died for Beauty—but was scarce Adjusted in the Tomb When One who died for Truth, was lain In an adjoining Room— He questioned softly “Why I failed?” “For Beauty,” I replied— “And I—for Truth—Themself are One— We Brethren, are,” He said— And so, as Kinsmen, […]

A Letter from Sophia Peabody to Nathaniel Hawthorne Sophia Amelia Peabody (1809-71) was born in Salem, Massachusetts, in 1809, the youngest of three talented sisters. Sophia, though troubled by ill health for much of her life, was a painter and copyist. From 1833-35 she lived in Cuba, in the hope that the climate might there […]

The Sky is Low, the Clouds are Mean Emily Dickinson The Sky is low — the Clouds are mean. A Travelling Flake of Snow Across a Barn or through a Rut Debates if it will go — A Narrow Wind complains all Day How some one treated him Nature, like Us, is sometimes caught Without her Diadem […]

288 Emily Dickinson I’m Nobody! Who are you? Are you—Nobody—Too? Then there’s a pair of us! Don’t tell! they’d advertise—you know! How dreary—to be—Somebody! How public—like a Frog— To tell one’s name—the livelong June— To an admiring Bog!   A pair of them? I’m intrigued that there are two substantially different versions of this poem […]